


The Uncertainty Principle | MEANIE [ON-HOLD]

by atlasofbiblee



Category: Meanie Fic, Mingyu - Fandom, Mingyu Fic, SEVENTEEN (Band), Wonwoo - Fandom, Wonwoo Fic, meanie - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13422579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlasofbiblee/pseuds/atlasofbiblee
Summary: There's nothing left to do but simplify.





	The Uncertainty Principle | MEANIE [ON-HOLD]

CHAPTER 1

The pages that lay empty before Jeon Wonwoo makes the slight buzz of caffeine drift away from his system. After a solid hour of mental concept-mapping and two shots of weak espresso, he’s still sitting there like a moron with no grasp at the situation that remains absolutely blank atop the wooden table of the coffee shop across university grounds. He sits silent—observant, listening in on conversations, even of the ones that he knows should have been left unheard. There’s a minimal amount of bliss when it comes to listening in on how people went about their day. 

 

Or maybe he’s just lonely.

 

“Jeon Wonwoo,” the voice itself reminded him of how wrong his last thought was. He looks up to meet the eyes of Kwon Soonyoung. He dyed his hair a different color again today—a tint that appeared pink but also seemed red. Wonwoo was never really good at distinguishing colors. He had on an oversized sweatshirt that had some sort of peace sign printed on the middle and frayed jeans that he must have used at least a hundred times. Wonwoo sighs as he ignored him and proceeds to looking at his blank notebook page again. There are so many things simultaneously happening inside his head; a flurry of characters and plots and concepts and the question if whether or not Soonyoung was still standing there, waiting to get his attention. “Wonwoo,” Fuck.

 

Slowly, Wonwoo looks at him again, musters the biggest deadpan look that he could plaster across his face and just stares. He takes note of Soonyoung’s eyes that always seemed too big because he never smiles at him. He looks at his lips which are sealed tight and his foot that keeps on tapping on the wooden floorboards because he has always been impatient. Soonyoung never really liked Wonwoo. So Wonwoo gathered that Soonyoung’s not someone that he should like as well. “What is it?” he asks, grabbing his pen and pretending to write paragraphs on his notebook when all he’s really writing is his grocery list for next week.

 

“Nothing,” Soonyoung answers—curt and precise, before slumping on the seat opposite him. His head remains bent on what he’s doing as he tries to come up with a definitive answer as to why Soonyoung’s being like this to him all of a sudden. Soonyoung doesn’t only have the ability to provide the recipe for a sour mood, but also brings negativity in the space that surrounds him. Wonwoo begins to notice too many things when Soonyoung’s there as he always did. First, the air was stale—definitely bad for his health like Soonyoung. He coughs. Second, there’s the cold coffee because Soonyoung’s a walking plastic of ice—cold tightly packed in fake. He coughs again. Third, there’s Wonwoo’s unmotivated mind courtesy of Soonyoung who he really wants to strangle with that look the he’s giving him right now. He coughs once more and halts his thoughts before they drift to murdering him and throwing him in a man hole. To put it simply, every word that comes out of Soonyoung’s mouth is an acid attack. “If Jihoon didn’t like you, I wouldn’t even let you breathe near me,” he mumbles. 

 

Point proven.

 

Wonwoo tries to keep silent, but he couldn’t entirely ignore his comment. “That’s a bit harsh,” he replies, still focused on what he’s doing. If people knew the contents of what he’s writing, he would be deemed the dumbest of them all. “You could just tell him that you don’t like me, you know.”

 

Soonyoung scoffs and takes out his phone. “I did tell him,” he replies. The touch of annoyance in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “23 times, to be exact. But he still has this illusion that he could be the bridge to a friendship between us,” he starts scrolling with an incredibly unimpressed look on his face. “We’re meant to be against eachother, Wonwoo. A friendship between us is an absolute myth.”

 

“Fiction,” Wonwoo adds.

“A fantasy,” Soonyoung retorts.

 

“Product of the imagination,”

 

“An impossibility,”

 

“The thought itself is complete garbage,”

 

“You’re garbage,”

 

“Well, you’re a dimwit,”

 

“Fool,”

 

“Loser,”

 

“Moron,”

 

“Alright, stop that,” Jihoon’s voice snaps in the middle of the two. The displeased look on his face immediately made Wonwoo’s filthy comments cower to the back of his head. Jihoon never failed to keep the both of them in line. He always had this invisible chalk that drew the boundaries. “You’re like children,” he scoffs before giving Soonyoung a kiss and sitting down between the two of them. “I’m gonna die young because of the both of you,” he stresses before taking out his books and flipping them to the last page that he wrote in. 

 

“Stop saying things like that,” Soonyoung scolds Jihoon back and pulls his chair closer to him. Wonwoo already knew that he was going to thirdwheel the moment that Soonyoung approached him. He wasn’t bothered by it too much since it happened to him lots of times already to the point of him getting used to it. So he just opted to start looking around the coffee shop, at the people chatting, studying by the book shelves and decorative fairy lights. He tries to derive inspiration from the humdrum of voices and clinking cutlery. His finger traces the smooth surface of the porcelain plate where a slice of cheesecake was placed before he consumed it an hour ago. It was weird to him—how there were times when he found solace in the noise rather than the silence. He was so used to being alone that he craved sound—noise. He isn’t the type who likes to socialize but likes to hear other people socializing, laughing, telling stories as if life was just the breeze that takes them along with it.  Wonwoo craves clarity, certainty and color. But gray is how his life has always been no matter how much he tried to find the paint to fill it in. 

 

“I’ve got a question,” Jihoon says and turns to look at Wonwoo. Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at Jihoon who’s holding up his index finger before it began to fall as his eyes follow where it landed on his paper. “Why is this still empty?” Jihoon asks. When Wonwoo was about to interject, he cut him off. “I know there’s something written on there but based on what I understood while reading it upside down, it’s a grocery list in paragraph form,” Jihoon crosses his arms and sighs. “So I’m gonna say it’s empty.”

“But it’s not empty,” Wonwoo replies in defense.

 

“Well, it’s empty to me because it has no complete thought nor meaning to it,”

 

“But it means that I have the pending responsibility of shopping for the items that will keep me alive and—“

 

“Shut up and answer the question, Wonwoo,” Soonyoung mutters from across him though his eyes are solely focused on his phone screen. “It’s useless to argue with this one,” he says before his fingers go flying across the keyboard, completely ignorant and so obviously consumed by a different dimension.

 

Wonwoo is silent. He doesn’t know why it’s still empty. Is it writer’s block? 

 

Jihoon sighs and goes back to reading his notes. “You need to start dating,” it annoyed Wonwoo; how the tone by which Jihoon said it suggests that dating is an actual necessity when Wonwoo thinks otherwise. Unlike Jihoon, he doesn’t need anyone to completely depend on nor completely trust. He’s knowledgeable about the fact that his heart is something that he should protect  24/7 and that’s exactly what he plans to keep doing. Romance novels are bullshit, anyway. He should just veer away from that and focus on another genre like Sci-Fi or Mystery.

 

Feeling irked all of a sudden, Wonwoo stands and picks up his things from the table. “Enjoy your night, lovebirds. I’m not taking this grocery list lightly,” he mutters before leaving without hearing a word from the two people still sitting on the table. He wraps his scarf around his neck and secures the buttons on his coat before exiting the coffee shop. His glasses are still perched on his nose when he noticed the melted snow beginning to drip down and blur his vision. He removes it and wipes it with his scarf. He walks, looking at the trees that line the sidewalk and the lamp posts alight, mixing with the glower of the moon and the gloomy ambiance that seemed rather beautiful than what really meets the eye. He didn’t particularly like the snow. But it’s nice to look at so he just decided to appreciate it all the same. Everything has a downside, after all. 

 

No story is perfect; the beauty of it is highly-dependent on how the one who’s reading it will choose to accept it.

 

The grocery store slowly comes to view as Wonwoo hastens his steps, his boots crunching on fallen snow and leaving inconsistent tracks that overlap with other foot sizes that might’ve went the same way that he did. He goes in and sighs at the warmth that travels from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. He rubs at his nose and breathes in, wondering what Soonyoung and Jihoon are doing right now though he barely left them for fifteen minutes. He takes a shopping cart and begins his venture around the world of brands and price tags. 

 

Eggs.

 

Milk.

 

Tomatoes.

 

Onions.

 

Garlic.

 

Bread.

 

Wonwoo reads through the list, grabbing the things that he needs. He’s been through the same aisles for most of his college life. The map of this store has been so effortlessly embedded in his mind. But today, his mind was preoccupied. There were so many thoughts but none good enough to entertain. He probably looks like a zombie hopping from aisle to aisle, just walking and not really paying attention. He was about to grab a bottle of wine when he felt the skin of another hand beneath his. He snapped out of his thoughts and turned his head to meet curious, brown eyes. The stranger was smiling at him.

Wonwoo blinked a few times before the stranger smiled and said, “You can take it.”

 

“No, it’s alright,” he whispers before beginning to turn away. 

 

“I insist,” the stranger replies. “There are lots of them in other stores, anyway.”

 

Wonwoo pauses for a moment and looks back. The guy is dressed in what seems like an expensive suit beneath a gray coat. His hair was done perfectly, his smile in place and his skin so clear despite the darker pigment. It probably looks odd how Wonwoo is just staring at him but he didn’t seem bothered by it. He could’ve mistaken him for an idol, really. “Thank you,” he says before grabbing the bottle and immediately turning away. His mind was in a frenzy of feelings that are moving in different directions. He wasn’t sure who this guy is, but there’s a nagging feeling at the back of his head that maybe he does and it’s bothering him to no end. He looks down at the list on his left hand and decides to just ditch the rest of it for tomorrow because there was a sudden feeling that caught his attention.

 

Like any other person in the world, Wonwoo doesn’t know a lot of things. He's aware of that. But tonight, he feels as if he knows too much.

 

He knows that his heart is beating too fast.

 

He knows his fingers are shaking.

 

He knows that his breathing’s too short.

 

But by the time that he reached the cash register, he was clueless once again.

 

“Here,” the stranger from earlier said before placing a pair of black gloves on Wonwoo’s cart. The surprise on his face couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. “Your hands were cold,” the stranger says before smiling and lining up on the register next to the one he’s in.

 

Who is this person?

 

What is this feeling?


End file.
